


BEAST OF BURDEN

by goodnightfern



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Big Boss did Nothing Wrong, Butchered Richard Alpert Quotes, Co-Op Commands, Extremely Problematic Content, Fulton Tank Missions, M/M, Monster Hunter Missions, Slut-Shaming, bad trip, beach date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-04 01:51:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15831312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodnightfern/pseuds/goodnightfern
Summary: You knew from the start, didn't you? They say there's no secrets on the deathbed, but you always knew that was a lie.Kaz was ready to die from the moment you met him.Or: Kaz never appreciated the work Big Boss put into their relationship.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *hits blunt* whatever, welcome to this bbkaz vacation. second person pov is there for a reason, i promise.

_You knew from the start, didn't you?_ _They say there's no secrets on the deathbed, but you always knew this was a lie._

_Kaz was ready to die from the moment you met him._

 

 

Your tongue was still worrying a bit of mud-flavored gill caught in your teeth when you saw the lights on in the field hospital, so you ducked in to take a look at your latest recruit. All cleaned up and fast asleep. His lack of combat experience was all too obvious when the bandits showed up. If he'd stayed put in the cover you'd given him Kaz would've already been in your bed.

"He’ll be fine,” the medic said, stretching until his back cracked. It'd been a long, strange day for everyone. “Not so sure about his ego, though."

You swiped your thumb over Kaz's lips. Soft and a little greasy, like he used too much lip balm, but easy to slide past. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The medic shrugged. He always had a smile never quite reached his eyes. “Seems like a helluva lot to go through for just one guy.”

“He’s got... gumption.”

“That little extra something, huh?”

The two of you stared at his mouth. You pulled out a cigar and ignored the medic’s tsks. Kaz was the only patient at the moment, and if he wasn't already a smoker he'd get used to it soon enough.

“He wants to be my, ah... business partner,” you told the medic. “Kaz thinks we're gonna strike gold here. Build some kind of mercenary corporation."

"Hm. Could be nice."

You dragged your eye from Kaz's lips but the medic was as non-plussed as ever. You'd learned, ever since you found him tending your own men still in the enemy's colors, that this man was impossible to intimidate. Always worth a try, though. "Didn’t know you were in this for the money.”

“Antibiotics cost, Boss. Hard to save lives without the tools for the job.”

Maybe so, but the jungle was lush and you hadn't felt any sort of financial strain. The MSF was a fairly low-budget operation.

The medic started humming to himself again. It was never a song you knew.

"I'm going to make him second-in-command," you decided.

The medic nodded, thoughtfully. "You're the boss."

It was a great idea at the time. Kaz was in a vulnerable spot, and the men were already cracking jokes about the cute little samurai who thought he could beat the Boss. Jackal and Zebra dog-whistled when you brought him back to camp, as if it wasn't already obvious why you'd put up with his games. If he had to start at the bottom of the ranks he’d be bullied relentlessly to the point of suicide, but here he'd have to struggle to seem worthy. Have to puff out his chest and posture a little, but he'd take it as some great honor.

And you'd get him exactly where you'd been wanting him since you felt him go limp in your arms. 

Kaz moved into your tent immediately. All the better to keep an eye on him, of course. You gave him his own bedroll at first. Let him ease into the whole concept of you, well. _Easing_ up on in.

On your sixth night together you found him sitting down with his tie around his eyes. He said he had some kind of business in town, but the suit jacket was off, his sleeves were rolled up, and there’s a stripped down M1911 on his bedroll.

Trying to beat your time. Cute.

So you slunk up behind him, took his hands under your own, and chuckled. Kaz went completely still while you guided his hands. Let him chamber a round, cocked and loaded, before you let him free. When he ripped off the tie from his head to turn around and scowl up at you you'd noticed his left hand hovering around the safety.

“Come on. Let’s do it again.”

"If you're so eager to help, keep an eye on the watch."

You shrugged, leaning back over him. "I can see it from here."

But you were meaning to take a closer look at the watch anyways. He polished it every morning. Rolex Milsub - definitely not Japanese. Gold plating - certainly not standard-issue. When you bit it you realized you weren't sure if that was a real way to test if gold was genuine, but it made Kaz flinch. "You said you were a pilot in the JSDF. Where'd you get a diving watch?"

“Stole it off a Columbian drug lord,” he said, smug even as he twitched. “He tried to cheap me out on a deal.”

“What was a stand-up businessman like you doing with a bunch of drug lords?”

“What the hell else would you do in Columbia? These guys need guns as much as anybody else does, and they’ve got the money to pay for it. We're talking the number one export of Columbia here. Nothing illicit about it.” He smirked, raising two fingers, and said, “I mean, we both know where the money’s _really_ coming from.”

You… had some idea about that. “The CIA?”

“The Reds, too. And yet all the paranoid small-time dealers pay me to guard their product from the feds.” Kaz laughed. “Actually, speaking of that, about that meeting I had today. If you want to spare some guys to guard a shipment to Havana -”

“That’s not what the MSF is about,” you said automatically. Last time you checked, Moscow was in contact with Havana. Adam made it quite clear that while you could do what you liked, there were certain toes to avoid stepping on. But you didn’t tell Kaz this. Instead, you told him: “I don’t wanna have to worry about you getting kidnapped by _la mara_. That’s one hell of a watch you got there.”

“He's already dead," Kaz snapped, but he stopped struggling.

Shit, but even his hair smelled good. When you tried to lean into it Kaz abruptly announced an early morning tomorrow and the entire exercise a waste of time. But two hours into the night you could tell he was faking the snore.

This avoidant behavior became a pattern with him. Every time you made your intentions clear Kaz acted clueless. Stiffening when you press against him to fix his stance, squirming out from under you after CQC practice, quick and perfunctory when he bathes.

This was a problem you’ve never had before. Adam came right to you. Eva seduced you. You belonged to the Boss the moment you met her. Whoever ever else you might've screwed was high on the legend: no one ever played hard-to-get. You heard him snap to another soldier that he didn’t “bat for the same team” once.

But this was another lie, because when he finally did start to notice your attention he acted like it was all his idea in the first place. Got all flirty and shit. There was this one time where he calmly pulled off his sunglasses and told whatever small-time coke smuggler he’d need a much _bigger payload_ to _put out_ and shot you a dazzling little grin.

So you waited up that night, until the fake snores turned real, and crawled on top of him. You hesitated for a minute. Nuzzled the back of his neck and smelled him again: cheap cologne, coconut oil, sweat. When you curled low to feel the tight curve of his ass you were already hard. Just what you'd been needing, right?

And Kaz rolled over and said, “Took you long enough.”

Still playing cocky, but the glasses were off. So you shrugged and said, “Kept you waiting, huh?”

He kissed you. You undid his pants. The deed was done, signed and stamped. All the pussy he talked about was worrying, but he was so tight you imagined you might be the only man he’s ever been with. And shit, you were right: Kaz was a perfect fit for your dick. 

“Doing all right there?” you asked after, patting him.

His laugh was a little short. “You couldn’t even try with the condom? Something a little more than spit?”

Adam always liked the friction. You never liked not being able to feel anything. "You still came, right?"

"...I'm gonna go clean up."

And you let him leave, but you were still there when he came back. He whined about the heat but you shut him up with your tongue. You liked that slick and sticky heat, and when he ended up sucking you off after a while you were actually stunned into silence.

Too good. Too practiced. He'd smacked his lips while you tried to figure out just how many dicks he'd taken.

But you weren’t looking for another Adam anyways, were you? Whoever screwed him before certainly never did him right. So you fell asleep pressing Kaz against your chest, and in the morning his lips still tasted like your come.

Once that last wall came down you wanted to fuck him constantly. Until he smelled like you, until he had to tie his scarf higher, until he was a limp sobbing mess on your cock. He had more meat on him than Adam and Eva combined, an ass you could sink your teeth into, and it was a treat to pull out a cigar while he rode you. 

There was this one time - all you remember is that it was raining on the Barranquilla coast; must have been right before Paz and Zadornov showed up. Kaz had come back late from a long day. All done up in his suit again, but in the shack he was wringing out his tie and setting his shoes out to dry. His collapsed wet hair seemed to bother him; he kept running his hands through it, trying to shape it back, but he was happy. Kept yammering about new deals and big money and the _business._  

You reached out and tousled his wet hair. Messed it all up until he looked like a wet dog again. It'd shut him up, but he'd knocked you away playfully. Let you finish stripping off his clothes. He made some noise about doing it in his "office", but you'd been training all day and needed it. The damp rain-chill turned warm between you and you thought, maybe there was something to be said for sluts.


	2. Chapter 2

_Didn't last long, did it? It was like slipping into a brand-new sports car only to find the interior demolished. It was like walking into a boardroom, and maybe the conversation didn't completely stop, but there'd be a pause. A moment. When everyone stared at you, and Eva would drop her eyes and Adam would smile and everyone else looked straight through you._

 

You can lead a slut to water; they'll drink it, no problem. The trick is keeping them away from all the muddy puddles.

Kazuhira Miller came with plenty of helpful features. He could cook, knew Smoke on the Water by heart, and was comfortably fluent in Spanish. You weren't as good as it as you should've been, especially when it came to the  shapeshifting dialects of the Caribbean. Which only came back around to bite you in the ass when you caught his name from Deer and Piranha. Two of exactly five female soldiers - the straight ones - who tended to cluster together in the sausage fest. Later, in the shack that was still serving as your main HQ, you asked Kaz what _pinche pirujo_ meant.

Kaz laughed, quick and bashful. “Who were they calling that?”

“Dunno.”

“That’s… huh. You’re sure you didn’t catch a name?”

“No.”

“Snake. If they were talking about me, just say it. It's not like the men aren't saying worse.”

You stared at him.

“I mean, I can take it if it’s just me.” He smirked, and you wished he’d take his goddamn sunglasses off. “Besides, it’s not like I charge for my services. Let me guess: it was Piranha, wasn’t it? She sure wasn’t calling me a cheap whore when she was screaming my - hey!”

You twisted his scarf harder. Dragged him up out of his chair and threw his shades to the floor. He glared at you like there was something to be confused about here.

You composed yourself. “When was this?” 

“Christ, Snake, calm down! It was just -”

“Just what?”

He licked his lips just to fucking tease you even more and said, “Exactly what do you think’s going on here, Snake?”

“I’m wondering why I let you in my bed if you’re still spreading yourself around. You’re supposed to be my second-in-command, Kaz. Doesn’t look good if the women are talking like that about you.”

“That’s just how girls talk. Locker-room stuff. If anything it’s better for them if I'm the one getting them off. Most guys, especially soldiers, don’t know how to treat a lady, or else they knock them up, or start - acting - like they owe them something - mmf!”

You dropped him to the floor before he passed out. He rubbed his throat, swearing hoarsely. "What, are you jealous or something?”

“It reflects poorly on both of us."

“Fine, geez, I get it.” Kaz sighed. Got up from the floor and dusted his pants off. “Snake, if you wanted this to be exclusive, all you had to do was ask.”

Ask? You expected nothing less. He was yours. You caught him, you held him down, that's it. Besides - hah, you'd still believed this - there was nothing Kaz needed you couldn’t give him.

Adam understood this, but Adam was gone.

Fucking Adam, who held your hand while you left the Patriots together, wasn't there. No, he’d tossed his scarf over his shoulders and given you a kiss and a promise that you’d meet again, that he’d be your eye in the dark as always.

Adam would've burnt crimson in the Caribbean sun anyways. But he'd like the good pot they grow down here, get pleasantly baked and soft in those moments he reserved especially for you. Eva, on the other hand, would've loved it down here, if she wasn't too busy fussing over those abominations in her belly.

Every time you thought about them you'd get this urge to grab Kaz and fuck his throat. Ask him to play Smoke on the Water again, or Free Bird or something. Maybe even just talk to him. Kaz was pretty smart, even when he swilled rum and coconut until he spilled it on himself, teasing you about silly little things you never once felt self-conscious about. Almost what you had with Para-Medic until she turned out to be completely psychotic. You might have wanted this with Adam, once, but there's no comparison. Kaz came from nothing, Adam -

Adam came from _her_.

You asked Kaz about his own past rather than think about yours. And Kaz did tell you about his mother, in a rare unguarded moment when he wasn’t strutting around trying to organize your entire outfit for you. All you asked was if he could teach you Japanese, so you could read some of the notes he’s always scribbling down for himself.

You had a mother once. Someone gave birth to you, but you never needed that woman. She gave you nothing; another one gave you everything. Kaz talked about his mother with a strange wistfulness you couldn't relate to.

"Started working at ten, huh."

Kaz shrugged. "Balancing our books was how I learned math.”

“No wonder you're so good at all this crap.” That ruffled his feathers a bit.

In the end you never end up learning much Japanese.

You still don't know why you told him about her.

Maybe it was only fair. Maybe it was just the alcohol. She warned you against the drink, but it was a steamy day with little to do because Kaz was deep in inventory all day. By sunset you'd successfully lured him from the shack to the hammock with a bottle of palm wine and he was running a hand through your chest hair.

The context doesn't matter. What matters is that you grabbed his hand before he could touch the scar.

"I can feel it, you know," he said. "When you're - when you're against my back. Aren't you, uh, worried about tetanus?"

"Not really."

"But why?"

"In case of emergency..."

"Break your own skin?" He nodded, and then said, "I get it. It's supposed to look like a snake."

Maybe it was always bound to come out. Maybe it was scratching the surface already. Maybe that's why Zebra and Jackal would drink with you, but never too much.The voice on the tape was just the final catalyst.

So, yes. That happened. You'll always have to fucking live with that, but in your defense: you didn't think he'd _remember_ it all.

When you finished, Kaz was quiet for a long time. Drew his bushy eyebrows together - when he sucked in his lower lip, you figured he must really be thinking and wondered if you should shove him off the hammock and quietly throttle him right then and there.

But Kaz grinned and broke the spell. The hammock swung when he rose up over you and said, "I get it now, Snake. America betrayed you both, all for the money. Rotted you both from the inside out just for, what? I never heard of this Wiseman’s Committee. This is exactly why we gotta do what we gotta do.” He actually slapped the scar. “We’ll show those suckers just who runs the world.”

“...What are you talking about?”

“The MSF needs to be more than a business, Snake. We need to be our own nation.”

“To be a nation, you need -”

“People and land, I know. We’ll get the people, don’t you worry about that. All we need is territory _._ This traipsing through the jungle crap isn’t going to work out in the long run, Snake, you and I both know that. We’ll always be subject to local jurisdiction no matter what we do. Unless we can claim a stake of this planet for our own -”

“What, you wanna go take back Japan?”

Kaz snorted. “Sure, we’ll take over Hokkaido and create the new Ezo Republic. I'm not fighting a losing battle ever again. We need something new; something of our own.”

“Well, I hear they never resettled the Bikini Atoll.”

“I’m not joking around here, Snake."

It’s crazy talk, but you weren’t surprised when Kaz jumped for the offshore plant. The moment you touched down he started talking about solar panels and water filtration systems and fish traps. The more you let him go the better picture he painted: a completely self-sufficient base, stranded in the middle of the ocean.

Once you scrubbed off all the guano, at least.

“It’s perfect,” Kaz trilled, pen skittering over his blueprints and clipboards. “Snake, this is our dream come true. You gotta admit, we’ve got it made.”

You looked at the horizon. “Kinda lonely.”

“Not once we fill it up with soldiers. Hey, just think how great this’ll be for recruitment.” Kaz threw out a hand to the blue on blue. “Nowhere to run. They can join, or they can swim with the sharks.”

That free hand curled around your waist. He wanted your thoughts on his blueprints, and, in your professional opinion: they were just fine.

All you heard was that voice on the tape anyways, rewinding over and over again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you aren't familiar with my medic you should, uh read The Man from Cyrene first? I think I touch on his backstory in Hospice, too, it's all over the damn place because everything I write is connected

_I know how hard this part was for you. Classic boxer's fractures on both hands; what were you thinking? It was hard enough for your M60 to break through those AI pods. But you can give yourself a break, now. Forget the dying gasps of her horse. Forget the screams as you tore out the final memory boards. That's not what this is about._

_Breathe. In and out, there you go._

_You felt naked without the bandana. But it showed up, ten days later, tucked in your loadout. The cost of selvage for something so trivial would've been uncharacteristic of Kaz; you assumed it was a replacement. It couldn't have been hers. Besides, there was the nuke to think about._

_Adam warned you about this sort of thing. You should have called him, but Kaz_ told _you to stop worrying about it. That it'd only come up as an absolute last resort._

_No, this isn't about the nuke either. We're well beyond that point._

_The point is: You needed someone. Kaz should've taken care of you._

 

 

Kaz was shouting at you again. All you did was exactly what he asked but -

"When I told you to show her a good time, I didn't mean it as a euphemism!"

What did he think was going to happen? "It wasn't like that, Kaz. I just... took her out. And I showed her a few things. She's at that age, you know."

“Yeah. _Sixteen._ " 

A young woman surrounded by soldiers. You swallowed and said: "If someone doesn’t take the time to show her the right way, someone's gonna show her the wrong way.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Kaz flipped through some folders on his desk. Ignoring you. "Just the birds and the bees. I getcha."

You were younger than Paz when you joined your first unit. They taught you even before the Boss did, and weren't half as mean. At sixteen Paz was too old to be a virgin. You didn't even know how the subject came up; you just wanted to talk to him about the nuke again. 

That must've been the same day you heard the gossip about Swan, so all that crap he gave you about Paz was just _bullshit._

Maybe you spent too much time off base, maybe you didn’t understand his precious needs. As if you'd think about it while relying on his supply drops in the middle of a mission, or when you got back from the mission and just wanted to take him to bed already. Coming home and grabbing Kaz right on the helipad was one of the few pleasures life had left for you, but it meant nothing when he fucking _smelled like someone else._

The more you chased the story about Swan the further it went. See, the real reason Armadillo fainted was because Kaz was regularly sucking his dick before he started dating Swan. And before that he was messing around with Peccary and Piranha at the same time, and Wallaby says he's pretty sure he saw Kaz and Piranha _both_ messing around with Deer, but Zebra says Wallaby only started that rumor because he was pissed Deer wouldn't fuck him.

But whether you asked Armadillo or Wallaby or Deer or whoever: it always went down in the sauna. 

So you had a talk. Kaz got aggressive; you put him in his place. And then he was slippery and warm and you realized the little minx knew exactly what he was doing, bringing all his hookups to the sauna. All the sweat made it so easy to slide in you barely had to try.

Didn't help, though. Only turned it into a cycle. No sex like make-up sex, right?

You had enough shit on your plate already.

The worst part was that voice haunting your dreams. You'd wake up in the middle of the night, reaching for the warm body, and nine times out of ten found nothing but a cold bed.

So you started staying up the nights you spent on base. Kaz could never fall asleep at the same time as you; there was always some more work to do. Just one more call to make, one more schedule to write, one more form to fill out.

At least he knew better than to cheat when you were around. But as you slunk around behind him you started to see other, unexpected cracks: endless cups of coffee, a sack of cocaine in his left breast pocket, the way he rubbed his eyes under his glasses without taking them off. 

This one night - or rather, the morning after a birthday party neither you nor Kaz actually passed out drunk after. Some of the guys TP-ed the mess hall. Broke some chairs. Which was fine, maybe earned them a week in the latrines, but a Kaz you’d never seen before was taking center stage. The party lights were still up, you remember. Red and green like Christmas even though it was nowhere close to the season. Must've been cheap. 

"You know how much toilet paper costs me a month, Zebra?” Kaz grabbed a dangling strand, crumpled it up, and hurled it. “I pay extra for the good stuff from the States, because I care just that much about your chafing asshole, so that’s thirty-nine cents a roll. Doesn’t sound like much, does it? Five dollars for a twelve-pack? But the average person goes through about one roll a week. So multiply that by 312 soldiers, then times four.”

Zebra and Jackal screwed up their faces. If you wanted calculators, you would've hired those.

“Christ, did you even - okay. About $486.72. Five hundred, give or take.”

“Is that… a lot?” 

“Is that a lot - no, it's not a lot. It's a drop in the fucking ocean of the money we're pulling in with this operation, but if I diverted it towards food maybe you'd stop whining about eating rice and beans all the time. You'd notice, believe me. Now, I don’t know if any of you read the news, but they’re saying the price is about to double. Eighty fucking cents a roll. That’s nearly a grand on shit I buy _just_ to wipe up shit, and I haven’t even gotten into the freight yet. Oil’s up to twelve bucks a barrel, and in case you haven’t noticed we’re in the middle of the goddamn ocean. Unless we’ve got a secret tree platform I don’t know about, when it comes to paper - not just toilet paper, mind you, we’re fucked.” There was a snowpile at his feet, shredded bits he kept kicking around.

“Yes, sir," said Zebra.

"Sorry, sir," said Jackal. 

That wasn't quite like them, was it? 

But their apology wasn't enough. “Now, you might ask -” Kaz adopted a bestial, grunting tone - “But _Kaz,_ why don’t we start recycling paper? Can’t we afford to be more self-sufficient? Yeah. That’s be nice, but it would cost me way, way more to build a brand new recycling factory not to mention figure out whatever bleaching process I’d have to use to kill all the VDs you guys are carrying. Because of course we’d be recycling nothing but your used asswipes because if I didn’t keep every damn receipt and bill of sale and record we’d be _underwater_ and - wait a minute.” Kaz whirled on his heels and barked, “AGAMA!”

"Yes, sir!" You thought Agama was just a cook, but the truth is he was always following Kaz around with a clipboard.

"Start taking notes."

Kaz paced, muttering. About something called RT-11 and IBM, and the cost of it all. Took you a minute to realize he was talking about converting all of his records to digital and starting a recycling plant - expensive, yes, but worth it.

It was going too far, though, so you stepped out the shadows.

Like magic that strange Kaz turned into the one you knew.

“What’s going on?” You played nonchalant, patting your pockets for a cigar. “Looks like you boys had a bit too much fun here, huh.”

Zebra and Jackal laughed it off. They knew you. It was fine. You clapped them on their shoulders, gave them latrine duty for a week - they knew it was coming. Then you nodded over your shoulder and said, "Kaz. With me." 

You left the mess hall. Kaz clutched the clipboard he hoped you didn't see him snatch from Agama. Dawn was rising at the eastern edge of the sea, but the floodlights around base were still on. In that odd light he was haggard.

“I don’t like how you talk to the men,” you told him. “They’re soldiers, just like you. Treat them with respect.”

“I need them to respect me first.”

“If you can’t get them to do that, then you’re failing as a commander.”

Kaz tilted up his shades. Glowered down with bloodshot eyes. “Boss, exactly whose fault do you think it is?”

"You just need to respect yourself first," you started, but Kaz interrupted you. His voice was low and tight, like a tripwire you might miss.

“They all say I slept my way to the top. That I’m nothing more than your prissy little cockwarmer. What do you think could possibly have given them that impression?”

Ah, he was stressing about that party. But he didn't want your hand on his back. Rather, Kaz pointed at the space between the two of you, at your hanging hand, and said, "This is exactly what I’m talking about. This is _exactly_ what you kept doing last night. Dragging me on your lap like I was supposed to just, sit there, and -”

“I was drunk,” you shrugged.

“No, you weren’t.”

You reached out and caught him this time. Bit his ear and said, “You can’t blame me for wanting to show you off, Kaz.”

“Please, Snake? Just tone it down a little."

Of course some of the guys talked about the commanders being a couple of fags. Not like it mattered. And as Kaz told you that first day on Mother Base: there was nowhere to run.

So you tried to lay off the public displays or whatever the hell, but that didn’t work either. A month rolled by, there was another party, and you drank exactly one beer and listened to the R&D team rant about the latest develops in cardboard boxes while charring agouti steaks. And you looked up, squinting through the smoke, to see who switched out the Black Sabbath for that funky crap.

(It wasn't crap. In 1970 George Clinton and his merry band of pranksters dropped acid and made history, but nevermind that.)

Of course it was your best field medic. Not just that - though he was deployed more often than not, he could've run your entire medical team. Every time you asked him if he wanted some kind of promotion he turned you down. Positions of power made him uncomfortable, he said. Funny for a guy with power over life and death, but maybe that was more than enough for him.

The medic was a slut, too. The difference between him and Kaz was that he never made a scene out of it. The difference was that he fixed your stitches when you tried to put the jigsaw back in yourself. You kept your shirt on with Kaz for a while. 

Something must've happened on his last deployment, or else it was just one of those rare nights when the medic broke out that stinky purple bud and got trashed. No one would dream of stopping him.

He swayed up, singing _free your mind, and your ass will follow_ , grabbing Agama and Kaz around the waist. He winked at you, inviting, and said he'd show you all how they got down in Chi-Town.

“You’re from Chicago?” Kaz asked, but he was already getting twisted around. The medic could put on the moves when he was drunk.

Could you have danced with them? Of course not. You never danced. Instead you snatched Rooster’s canteen full of whiskey and tried to call Adam.

Adam answered that time. He was sweet, and you missed that, and so you never ended up telling him about the nuke. You think you might have talked about movies. When you tried to jerk off his voice turned to hers, to the disjointed rambles of the AI pod, to the screams -

Strangelove said you went into her AI lab and started throwing shit around. Leopard said you took six tranq shots to the head.

What, did you think you could talk to her? Her relationship with the Boss was nothing like yours. Then again, she didn't have to be so cold to you.

Everyone was so cold to you. Everyone but Chico.

That was the day, wasn't it? You should've talked to Kaz about what he did last night, but instead you let Chico taste his first cigar safely behind Amanda’s back while he told you about strange monsters in the Congo and Canada.

Sounded like an adventure, all right. All four of you could go traipsing through the jungle. You and Kaz, Amanda and Chico. Cecile was good at finding animals, she'd be a fine scout, but then you'd have to worry about Kaz. No, just you four. Cameras at the ready, surviving on whatever you could catch and eat. The only mission to discover the undiscoverable. 

Would've been nice, huh?

You were discussing the logistics of an underground cat society over lunch when Kaz butted in. Slapped down his tray of gallo pinto across the mess table and said, “Stop filling his head with ideas, Snake.”

“He’s the one who started it.”

“The Island of Monsters, right? And it's ruled by cats?”

"They're not rulers. But they need someone to chase out the monsters. Could be good business for the MSF."

“It’s all true, I swear!” Chico insisted. “They say there's _gold_ on la Isla de Monstruos, too, so they can pay. Look, this guy, the fisherman that I talked to, he says he gets the giant marlins from the waters there. He’s even seen the cats! But he wasn't strong enough to fight for them.”

“Oh, I’m sure it's all real. I've heard of La Isla de Monstruos myself.” Kaz shoved his gallo pinto around with a fork. "Say, isn't that where King Kong comes from?"

"King Kong isn't real! That's just a movie!"

"Who's King Kong?" you asked. You might've heard of this one before.

"You've never seen King Kong?" Kaz looked up with a little grin. "Oh, it's a good one. You'd love it."

"It's so cool," Chico enthused. "Okay, so King Kong is this giant gorilla. He lives on Skull Island with all these other giant animals. This film crew finds him and captures him and take him to America in chains. They put him in the circus, but -"

"He escapes," Kaz said. "But, see, there's this pretty little blonde girl he captures. Snatches her right up in his fist. And he carries her all the way to the top of the Empire State Building, with the entire United States military gunning for him."

"Bad move, huh?"

"Oh yeah. They shoot him down, the girl lives, and man triumphs over nature." Kaz chewed, swallowed, shrugged. "Great film. Let's watch it sometime."

You hate movies, but you'd seen a few by then. When Dr. Clark started yapping on and Adam joined in, the two of them always ended up dragging you to a couch in a flat or a dark breakroom in a lab or even a boardroom with a giant glowing screen to put on something about cowboys and aliens and shit. They always had a good time. Poked you at all the important scenes. 

"I don't like movies," you said, and Kaz rolled his eyes.

Before you could ask him about what he'd done last night or beat his fucking head in Amanda joined you, groaning about how the two of you were only encouraging Chico in his fantasies. She expected better of you; she always did. 

Don't lie about Amanda. If you had quit thinking with your dick she might've been a better partner than any of those whores. But there was a problem with Amanda, see: she genuinely respected you. 

That was a burden Kaz could never understand. That no one else on base could possibly understand. Every time they called you Big Boss, Vic Boss, you felt that damn giant ape on your back.

 

 

_None of them saw you, did they? Of course not. No one else could be Big Boss._

_Stay with me. We're almost through this._

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *big boss voice* fuckin... fulton tank battles... the shit i gotta do. to get to get this sonuvabitch to put out.

_No, you're not dead, and this isn't your final judgement. Since when did you believe in that sort of crap anyways? You know as well as I do that once you go into the black, there's nothing else. I thought you said you could handle your shit._

_Don't look at me. Look at the fire._

_You know where you are. There is a once-abandoned missile silo beneath your feet and a galaxy above your head, and only you and the fire in between._

 

 

~~You were tired.~~

~~On your last deployment you crawled through a minefield after Leopard. An armor-piercing round had shot clean through his lung, there was nothing you could do, but he wanted to tell you about his sister. You listened, as always.~~

~~But you were home, now, and you were in the office you shared with the head surgeon feeding Leopard's medical history into the shredder, when you heard the faint strums of a guitar.~~

Wait. That one's not yours.

You were tired. It was somewhere around 0300 and the last snake you'd seen was a fer-de-lance Paz strictly warned you against. What you thought were mangroves turned out to be manchineels, and creeping naked through the roots had left you with a burning rash. 

Not to mention your cigars had gotten fucking wet. 

The way Kaz explained it, your deployment cost was cheaper than actually buying choppers and tanks outright, and the CIA was trafficking arms from Panama to Puerto Rico. There were custom tanks outfitted with guided missiles in Guatemala, choppers with the latest radar technology that could track you through the cloud forests of Costa Rica, and R&D could barely keep up. Everything you fultoned home the MSF would tear it apart, reassemble and mass-produce, and send out all over the world. Or sell off to Kaz's ubiquitous Colombian drug lords. 

You didn't know he was still doing that? That's right. He always told you not to worry where the money came from. But Nixon had just declared the war on drugs, which meant the street value was only rising. The DEA was still in its infancy back then; you could've nipped it in the bud. 

Anyways. Stealing tanks was also a great excuse to get you off base for weeks at a time.

This particular unit you’d been following was guarding the latest BTR-60 PB custom, which meant you barely knew what it was capable of. All you knew was you sure as hell didn’t wanna be spotted by it. Kaz was explaining just how badly a round from the turret could split you in half in your ear when you asked him where he was.

"What do you mean, where I am? I'm in bed. We're in the same timezone."

"Taking an early night?"

Kaz sighed noisily. "Fine, you got me... I'm at the loading dock on the mess platform. We just had a shipment of dry goods come in, and Mudskipper doesn't know what FIFO means." 

For all you knew that could be a code for _I'm at intel trying to get my hands in Cecile's pants._

"You should get some rest."

"I swear, I'm going to bed right after this."

Sure, but whose bed?

" _Our_ bed," Kaz added. As if he knew just what you were thinking.

Kaz could take his radio anywhere. He could've been in the sauna with Mudskipper and Piranha and whoever else all with him. Maybe he had six dicks pointed at him that very second, on top of the two already fucking him. One in his ass and one in his mouth while everyone else waited their turn. They’d all be in the sauna, of course they’d be in the fucking sauna, Kaz all red-flushed with his skin steaming and his ass sloppy.

You turned off your radio, switched the tranq rounds for armor-piercing, and by dawn you were home.

At the helipad Kaz was disgruntled, wiping sleep from his eyes. Another damn lie: you knew he wasn't asleep.

“What the hell were you thinking, Boss? That was a slaughterhouse! You know how much it costs to fulton a tank? I can’t afford to bring in a smoking heap of scrap metal. I told you -”

"Got bored. Missed you." You snatched him, sniffed him - yep, he smelled different. 

"Boss, get _off_ -"

Goddammit.

You were right.

You played horny, sticking a hand down his pants right there on the helipad. It was the middle of a shift change; no one saw you throw him over your shoulder and carry him to bed. The bed - _your_ bed - was artfully rumpled, but the desk was clean. If Kaz had actually slept here he would've brought something from the office to occupy himself with.

So you pinned him on the bed, braced your forearm over his throat, and asked him how many dicks he'd taken while you were gone.

He couldn't answer. You pressed down. Asked him again. 

He still couldn't answer so you flipped him around, dislocating his shoulder, and slammed his head against the wall. With your free hand you yanked down his pants and stuck a finger inside of him. Clean, suspiciously so. Even his dick didn't stink like pussy for once.

No, Kaz smelled like soap. Like he'd played it smart this time.

How many times had you tried to beat some sense into him? How many splinters had he gotten in the sauna? The last time you caught him with Piranha you smashed his glasses on his face. The medic said it was a miracle he hadn't been blinded. You were always too easy on him.

You could've killed him right there and spared yourself a whole lot of trouble. But Kaz kept talking, even as you slammed his head so hard his teeth cut his cheek. Blood smeared: on the wall, on your bed, on his face.

And Kaz kept talking.

Kept _lying._  

All you asked for was the fucking _TRUTH_  -

 

_Sometimes all you see is flowers. They’re white until the rain turns them red, until the blood dries black and the ash scatters between your fingertips._

_I know. I see them, too._

 

and when you snapped out of it Kaz was huddled in a blood-spattered corner covered in his own vomit. 

There was a giant split on his left cheekbone and semen running down his thighs. You ran a hand down his back to settle him but he jerked away, scuttled along the wall like a crab.

“Don’t you fucking touch me,” he spat.

“Kaz -”

“What the hell is wrong with you?" He could barely speak through his crushed throat. "I'm your _fucking_ second-in-command, not some - some battered housewife you can stick your dick in whenever you want."

“I'm sorry, I just -”

"Fuck you." Kaz struggled to his feet. Nearly fell over. "Kill me. Kill me right now, because I'm leaving. You can shoot down the chopper. I can't yell at you about wasting money if I'm dead."

"Kaz, wait -" 

"Fuck this. The MSF, it's all yours, I'm gonna try my luck with the sharks."

He might've had a few inches on you, but you were stronger. He couldn't fight you off when you dragged him down and pulled him close. Wrapped around him and kissed the bites on his shoulders.

Once he stopped shuddering you told him the truth. You needed him.

He spat out a laugh along with what you hoped was the last of his puke. “Need me to what? Shut up and suck your dick?”

Well, _yes,_ but. “I can’t run this base without you.”

Sometimes when Morpho was bringing you home you'd have to look away when the sprawling platforms started spinning. MSF had gotten bigger than you ever imagined. There wasn't time anymore to sit down and talk to every single man you brought in, half the staff you hadn't even _met_ , and every time you came back from a mission they’d built another platform.

It was the truth Kaz needed to hear. He wiped his face with his already filthy scarf, and nodded. Not at you, but at the single bulb illuminating the room. “You know how much solar panels cost, Snake?”

“Must be pretty expensive, huh?”

“Nope. Exxon’s made them cheaper than ever.That's why I'm trying to get R&D on manufacturing our own, so that I don't have to live in Exxon's pockets anymore. Those solar panels are the one of the most important things on our base, Snake. Do you ever think of that? No. You just flick a switch and the light comes on."

"I know," you said. "It's good to have you, Kaz."

"And sometimes it's cloudy. Or they get covered in seagull shit. And then I'm paying even more for oil than I already am. If we could just get a rig, all of our energy problems would be solved. But those are expensive, and don't even get me started on drilling rights." He was still shivering as he rambled. "See, what I wanted - all I've ever dreamed of for the MSF is that - is that we would just _be_ -"

An independent nation, beholden to no one. You knew the rest, but Kaz went limp in your arms. There were tears on his cheek even though he didn't make a sound. Something was broken in there.

But if he let you, you could fix it. "Come on. Let's hit the showers, huh?"

He started as if waking up from sleep. "Yeah. Yeah, sure." He chuckled, looked back at you. Happy again. "Never thought I'd hear you say that, Boss."

There were others in the showers, but no one looked at the two of you when you went in and found a corner. You washed his hair while the water ran red around your feet. The split on his face wouldn't stop bleeding.

In the end you had to take him to the medbay. The medic on duty was exactly who you expected, as if it was fucking fate or something.

Now, you weren't there for this, but Kaz and the medic had a little chat. Maybe the medic felt guilty. Maybe he just needed to talk to someone. The content doesn't matter. What matters is at the end of their talk, Kaz was still threatening to send someone over the side of Mother Base. 

But things got better, didn't they? Kaz quit taking off his pants when he got drunk. Quit drinking around the men in general, started stashing his bottles in his office and at his desk in your bedroom. Which he stayed in, now. 

Nothing quieted those dreams better than waking up and seeing him sitting up in bed. He'd slip you a clipboard or show you a specs sheet sometimes, asking for your input on R&D's direction: after all, you knew more about combat than he did. You knew what your soldiers needed in the field.

For the first time you felt like you had a real partner in Kaz.

That's why, when shit hit the fan, you didn't kill him right then and there. He gave you the truth, like you always wanted.

It wasn't long after Paz sank into the sea when you realized you couldn't find Kaz anywhere on base. You rarely went to the control tower; today you searched every floor. Someone scrubbing the floors pointed you to a supply closet, where you found a drunk Kaz on the floor surrounded by broken radio equipment. This wasn't a supply closet at all, you realized. It was where he'd kept all his secrets.

Who was scrubbing the floors? They must've known. Just how much of a secret were Kaz's double-dealings? You knew what the men said behind Kaz's back; you never considered what they might say behind yours.

Of course it doesn't matter. They're all dead now.  

If Kaz had been honest with you from the start you could've told him all about your old friends. You didn't ask who he was speaking to, or what they might have promised Kaz - they promised you the world, too. You walked through the shattered glass and tangled wires up to him. Put your hand on his head and held it against your thigh.

"No one's coming to bail you out, huh?"

"I wasn't trying to -"

"Shh." You patted him. "They'll all turn on you in the end."

Except, of course, for you. 

When his hand came up and grabbed your fatigues you knew he'd learned his lesson.

So you took Kaz to the beach, like he always wanted. Fell asleep with him in your arms. When you woke up he was roasting crabs over a smoky fire, made some crack about how you really wouldn't want to eat them raw.

He didn't leave.

And then - 

We both know what happened next. 


	5. Chapter 5

_The Bwitists call this “breaking open the head.” Funny, right? Always helped me put mine back together. If Machine Gun Kid stayed with his family for a few more years he would've gone through the iboga rite, but he’s a man of our own tribe now._

_Oh, sure, but we give it to them in smaller doses. Keeps them alert in the field._

_You know what else is funny? That wasn't the first time the medic cut someone open without anesthesia. Wasn't the first time he’d held someone's guts in his hands, or felt a bomb in place of an expected organ._

_If he’d found the second bomb Mother Base still would've burned. XOF choppers would've shot you down anyways. This story always ends the same: in shrapnel and fire and black waters closing over your head._

_Where were we?_

 

 

You woke up alone, surrounded by her.

Kaz wasn't there. No one was there, and your tongue was too thick to cry out. But you never liked hospitals anyways, and you'd be damned before you sat around all day.

You couldn't stand up. So, you crawled.

On the other side of the curtain was a mirror you could fall into. You were too weak to pull yourself up into bed with it, so instead you huddled beneath. Listened to the slow soft breath, the beeping of the machines.

When the nurses finally found you they stuck a needle in your ass and put you promptly back in your own bed. No one told you where Kaz was. How long you’d been there. About the mirror.

By the time Adam showed up you'd crushed every flower in the room.

Of course it was Adam. Who were you expecting, Kaz? You didn't even recognize him at first, but he reminded you who he was. Your oldest and closest friend. The young boy you met in Grozny Gradj, all grown up. He missed you.

It was embarassing at first, how you followed him around like an imprinted gosling. Fresh from the coma you could barely speak, let alone think. But Adam smiled at you, and touched you sweetly, and the first time he put his hand on your dick you came almost immediately. It had been nine years.

Nine goddamn years. The world had changed, and Adam told you all about it. He had tapes for you. Newspapers and books in case you got bored. He sat in bed with you and talked to you for hours, and all you could do was quietly absorb. Later he would put you through stretches, try to build your body back up. You couldn't even fuck him at first; even a blowjob was enough to put you to sleep. 

But Adam was patient. Where Kaz ground you down, Adam rebuilt you. Where Kaz would've mocked you, Adam encouraged you. Adam only ever called you John; you were no legend to him.

Adam also wanted to talk about Kaz.

“I don’t wanna hear about Kaz.”

Adam looked curious. But the thought had been fermenting for a while now. 

“He was the one who insisted we bring back Paz," you said. "I should’ve known. He never let go of the grenade.”

Adam nodded. “You think Miller intended to die with you?”

“What the hell does he have to live for?"

“Right. We should definitely talk about Miller, then,” Adam said, and told you about how the past nine years had been for Kaz. There was a full dossier, file folders packed to the brim. Kaz had been busy.

You just stared at the photos.

Kaz on a helipad, blue sky and water all in the background. The Blackfoot behind him emblazoned with a new emblem - Diamond Dogs, whatever that means - and he’s in a crisp black suit shaking hands with someone you ought to know. Still wearing the shades, but his hair was hidden under a red beret and his guards were carrying FN-FALs.

Kaz in a blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up, standing in front of an ATV unit in sand dunes. Kaz in fatigues in the savannah, surrounded by teenagers toting AKs. Kaz standing on what looks like a derelict oil rig with a clipboard in his hands, giving the camera an exasperated look. But he's smiling a smile you've never seen before. Assured, but not as cocky. Proud, but less smug. He certainly looked older; you'd never seen him so scruffy.

Adam glanced at the photo in your hands. "Ah. That was the day he bought the oil rig." 

"Kaz always wanted an oil rig."

“Well, it's yours for the taking. Right now Diamond Dogs is on the edge. It can go either way. Depending on whether you want to take charge or leave it to your phantom.”

You wanted to ask Adam what would’ve happened if you hadn’t woken up. You wanted him to stop talking with his hands and put those hands on you. But past the photos all you could see was Kaz on the floor. Screaming at you even as he choked on his vomit. Kaz the very first moment you met him. Ready to blow himself up just to take you down.

No, he never let go of the grenade. And you were never supposed to wake up.

Adam nodded, curt, when he heard your decision. “You understand my place is with the phantom as well.”

“Always liked a little alone time.”

“You won’t be entirely alone. We’ve been working in South Africa. In fact, there’s an abandoned nuclear test site in the Kalahari I've been keeping an eye on -” And of course, there’s a whole new series of files about that. 

You interrupted his monologue by kissing him. Adam always hated being interrupted, but there was a cigar in his pocket. He protested, but he let you take it in the end. Your first smoke in nine years was perfect, Adam grinding against your dick while the nurses stood outside the locked door.

But Adam couldn't stick around. He always had a hundred irons in the fire. Always a reason to leave you alone again, to do nothing but pace the hospital room and try to get your PT back up to par. The nurses kept replacing the flowers even when you broke the vases, never let you smoke, and wouldn't even give you so much as a handjob.

It was just you, her, and the mirror.

Your mirror was awake, for all intents and purposes, but never quite _there._ You'd take off his headphones sometimes and listen, then put it back. You heard all the shit Adam told him about Kaz - you knew why he lied, Zero and Cipher would be watching Kaz - but you'd talk to him yourself sometimes. Who else did you have to talk to? She was gone, even the voice on the memory boards was gone. All you had were the tapes.

If he was to be your mirror, he had to understand. So you talked to him.

Whenever Adam caught you he'd try to lead you away. Smile and tell you to trust him. He promised that one day the phantom would be all yours, but now wasn't the time. There was work to be done. You trusted Adam, of course; you just missed him when he wasn't around.

So you asked him, "why didn't you warn me?"

"Warn you about what?"

"About the inspection. About _XOF_."

"I told you, John. Zero kept me in the dark about a lot of things."

"Even about me?"

"Especially about you," Adam says. "Besides, I did warn you against stepping on any toes. You think the CIA just forgot that Peace Walker had a nuke? It wasn't a secret, John. You should've called me before you let Miller take that thing."

Yeah. You knew that. As always, you should've listened to Adam.

"You're lucky to be alive right now," Adam reminded you, and handed you a cigar. "Don't worry about the past. That'll be Miller's job, now. All you need to focus on is the future."

Adam was right, of course. Kaz and the phantom would hunt down XOF. The MSF was more Kaz's than it ever was yours; it was a revenge you didn't need. Your phantom might have still drooled in his sleep, but Adam swore by his own work. 

Speaking of the phantom, you remember this?

Adam was gone, had been gone for weeks. You were lying in your phantom's bed, listening to a recording of her voice, when you noticed his eyes were open.

A hand reached out, sleepy and sloggy, and landed on your bearded cheek. He stared for so long you weren't sure if he was even seeing, but then he smiled.

You knew who I was.

 

 

_That's what I like to think, at least. Don't get it twisted. This is still your story._

_Remember?_

_You wanted to love him. I was made to love him. Look how well that turned out. Kaz chained me, made me his beast of burden to bear the yoke of his revenge. Yeah, you know._

_They say what goes around comes around, but we know karma's a lie. You can get away with all kinds of shit. I think it's more like, what you put out reflects. Everyone is a mirror. Just as I am yours. But if there's nobody here, who's driving this car?_

_See: we're both here. That's how bhakti works: you love until you and the beloved are one._

_Too much for you? What's love but a universal truth? An absence of secrets. A shared experience. Why do you think I asked you about Kaz? The burden of Big Boss is too much for a single man because Big Boss was never a man to begin with. It's just a title. A legend, a cryptid, a meme the Patriots and Kaz alike would twist to their own devices. Look what they did to her. You think I'm a puppet? I'm not the one cloned to hell and back._

_I played my role; now you play yours. Your heaven will be safe, and when the time comes... we'll show them all, right._

_Hey, as long as one of us believes it._

_Look. You can't build the future if you're living in the past. You've been holding onto this for far too long. Relax. You're standing on the bridge, watching yourself float by._

_Ready?_

_Let's throw those old memory boards in the fire._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i do have a Venom Snake fic, possibly, all about How Venom Snake Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Child Soldiers. that is also deeply tied to How Big Boss Learned to Stop Worrying and BECOME A GOD UNTO HIMSELF. and there's something about the two of them taking iboga out in the kalahari and throwing the old Peace Walker AI memory boards into a bonfire and: look. i wasn't going to write a straight up bbkaz _or_ bosselot. who the hell do you think i am.
> 
> also: this is Deadweight Losses timeline, so, you know what happens when BB returns to the states. Kaz just. couldn't stay away from that good dick, is what happened.


End file.
